


Spitting Blood

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the calm before the storm is all you can hold onto. [Michael x Lucifer]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spitting Blood

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Now we're spitting blood  
> Like the golden sun god  
> "I was born into plastic fame,"read his tattoo  
> But it don’t matter, we're all in the same  
> Ship sailing to what we hold as true
> 
> I got the Star of David hanging over me  
> But oh Mother Mary I find it hard to believe  
> That someone's hands -- no different to mine--  
> Could be hung on a wall, held as divine...
> 
> Spitting Blood by Wu Lyf   
> 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

The First War was brewing from both exits of the alleyway they found themselves in, ugly sounds that Michael was familiar with suddenly became soft...faded...dim. Running a hand through his sweaty, dark locks of hair, he stared with growing dread at one of the exits. At this moment they were but invisible, but it was a temporary blessing for himself...because he was cracking. The stern, firm and unbreakable General was crumbling from the inside out and he blamed _him_. Fucking Lucifer. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Shaking his head, the sound of someone heaving made him turn around, witnessing the ungainly sight of red vomit spilling on the cobblestoned floor. A lean body remained hunched over it, grimy hands clawing at the floor for support as the body was wracked with violent shudders. Michael immediately made his way over to aid the figure, to curl a stray lock of blonde behind a bare ear, but he flinched away when he drew too close. Shame was gripping him...forcing him to choke on an unsaid word, body turning away as if horrified.

“If...you’re going to try to talk me out of this... It won’t happen,” scratched words coughed out, and Michael resisted the urge to tug his hair out. He didn’t want to hear his brother. He didn’t want to hear his voice...not like this. Licking his split lips, unable to keep himself poised and still as usual, he paced like a feral animal trapped in a cage.

“Lucifer, this doesn’t have to happen,” he protested with growing anger. Yes, anger was easy to use. Easy to hide behind. “You will not win -- you are killing yourself! Just stop it...there is time, it’s not too late to ask for forgiveness. He will give it. He always have, and he always will!” he was beginning to beg, and part of him was beginning to simply not care. Turning to face Lucifer, he felt his heart lurch at the awful sight before him. One eye was filled with blood, the vivid blue in his eye gone into something gray and purple. Face was crusted in blood, sunshine hair mangled, and judging from the way his brother kept on vomiting and coughing up blood...his lungs and throat were being filled with the substance. He could see already the complex structure that each angelic being held at war with itself, muscles twitching and shuddering, knowing that its body was failing. “How can you smile at a time like this?!” he barked out violently, noticing the curve of the lips.

Lucifer was dying...

“Because I’m terrified,” the younger sibling gave some semblance of a chuckle, shaking his head slowly as he remained on his knees. “I could say grace and beg Father to forgive me...but that will only lead me to this same story, Michael. ...but _you_ don’t have to do this,” he murmured quietly, unable to raise his voice due to the odd scratching in his throat.

The archangel’s wings flared, ignoring the cold walls pushing back on him, shaking his head a bit too frantically. Oh Father, he was losing it... He could feel himself choking on the sob as he ached to touch his brother, to comfort the wounds he gave him, to forget this...but he couldn’t. “I...I...don’t -- ” the words were stalling on his tongue, burning him, and he swallowed hard like he understood what was occurring. He had to. He was the oldest sibling. He should know how to do this...to pull it together. “I...don’t want to,” he finally managed to heave out, voice cracking as he felt his eyes sting, anger beginning to boil.

Flexing his hands, feeling digits crack from being stiff, he clawed at his scalp in disheartening frustration. “But...I have to, Lucifer. _I have to._ I can’t disobey him...I just can’t...” he pleaded out for understanding to the wall, praying for comfort but none came...

Silence met him, broken by the ever soft wheezing from his brother’s breathing, waiting for his brother to scorn him. To humiliate him. To mock him. Shout at him. Anything. But instead his brother was quiet, forcing him to turn to him and fall on his knees before him. Boldly he reached out and gently cupped the side of his face that was mostly unscarred, wishing to heal the wounds...to heal him...to take care of him... But he simply couldn’t...he had to be the oldest sibling. He had to follow the rules and be the good example to others. He had to bear the weight of responsibility, and oh how tempting it was to toss it for him...

Silence held heavy...and Michael yearned for Lucifer to break it. To break it with something snarky or witty...but Lucifer was not giving him the pleasure. So they remained in heavy silence, anxiety gripping the usually calm and collected archangel.

“Remember when I first taught you how to fly?”

Lucifer turned his head away, giving a nod, feeling suddenly nauseas. Michael was being simply cruel now. Terribly cruel.

“You were so eager to fly, that you began while you still only had down feathers,” Michael chuckled weakly, and Lucifer felt his insides twist. “So insistent to break the norms -- to take risks...” he murmured in quiet thought, hand beginning to fall from Lucifer’s stained face, but a cool hand found his calloused one before it was out of range. Fingers clutched onto it like a child’s will to its parent’s hand when in fear of being lost in a public place, the blonde nodding his head for Michael to continue. Lucifer was aching but...he wanted to listen to his brother, who always was unusually talkative when about him, a thought that made him smile.

The older sibling mimicked his smile, happily keeping his larger hand around his, refusing the urge to pull him close.“You always were lopsided, always tilting this way and that -- even now you still do,” he finished, earning a soft scoff from Lucifer.

“I do not fly crooked, for your information.”

“Oh yes, you do. Others may not notice, but I do.”

“I think you’re jealous I beat you in a race that one time -- ”

“One you cheated on!”

“Oh please, I was simply pointing out that Uriel was to your left as I...decided to move on forward,” Lucifer protested slyly, bright eyes staring at his brother who was too busy shaking his head and scowling at him. Michael was undeniably cruel for bringing things like this up...things that made him want to stop this and hold onto the precious time with his brothers... But...not today. He couldn’t break today. So they remained in place, Michael staring intently back at him until Lucifer felt his will tremble, something only his brother could do to him.... Turning his head to the right, feeling his jaw clench, he fought for resistance and for his will to be resolute and strong.

Stay strong.

Fight it.

You can do it.

Panting, feeling as if he was going to hyperventilate, he shoved his mouth hungrily over Michael’s. Sliding his fingers through his brother’s, his free hand threaded itself through wet locks as he sobbed uselessly into the frantic kiss. He ignored the cry of pain from his body at his abrupt movements as he strived to meld themselves into one, fear of forever being apart making his body cling onto him.

Michael was the one surprisingly gentle, afraid to break him as he chastised him with warm kisses that felt like the sun on one’s back. His calloused hands carefully held him, and it was at that moment did Lucifer know that he would never have Michael. Michael obeyed their Father, and Lucifer loved their Father too much for them to ever truly claim to have the other... They were never meant to have the other, and to realize it now...at such a time like this...it made Lucifer only hate this game. He would no longer be his Father’s pawn.

Drawing back, gasping for air, he was aware that his wounds stung from his tears. Leaning his forehead against Michael’s, drinking in his breath that tasted of blood and cinnamon, a sense of peace fell upon them. Oh God his body was on fire, screaming for someone to heal his bleeding wounds, but he simply didn’t care... It was worth it.

“There’s something screaming inside of me, Michael,” Lucifer broke the silence, words hushed, “That is telling me to do this...that is telling me to fight, and I won’t ignore it. I have to do this...for myself.” Michael remained silent and gave a slow nod.

“Once we leave this alleyway...I...I have to get rid of you...” Michael breathed out steadily, words feeling heavy on his tongue. Lucifer remained silent and gave a slow nod. “I’m so sorry if I was the cause of this -- ”

“No,” the blonde drew back in surprise at such a claim, shaking his head as he cupped Michael’s face, “You did nothing wrong, and in the future...when we next meet I will probably say hateful things to you. But know there will never be a time when I will not love you. So will you stop being the martyr here? I thought it was my job.”

“Oh shut up, you are so pigheaded.”

“So much for having a moment,” Lucifer snorted as Michael rose to his feet, extending his hand to help his brother up. Grabbing his hand, he welcomed the support as an arm slipped underneath his armpits, hoisting him up. Leaning against the secure weight walking him towards the exit, he felt his ribcage shudder in growing pain, aware that reality would soon meet them. Pausing before the exit, lips found the side of his forehead before drawing back.

“Forgive me?” Michael rumbled hotly somewhere near his ear, a sense of urgency gripping his words.

“Don’t be silly. I’m no priest,” Lucifer replied back with a snarky undertone, squeezing Michael’s hand before releasing it, “Ask me again when all of this is done with.” Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath before being plunged back into the stifling and humid heat of the battle. Rough hands shoved him onto the floor immediately, head slamming into the floor as his nose was finally broken. Bound to happen and simply matter of time.

All Lucifer could do was spit out blood and smile through the crimson drippings. He couldn’t wait for the ending of this story.... Michael will be there.

Bound to happen and simply a matter of time.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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